Initial D: Battleground USA
by Thir13teen
Summary: With Ryousuke's death, Keisuke is given the posthumous orders to go to the United States and race. Chapters 2 & 3 up!
1. Chapter 1

Battleground: USA

Chapter 1: Hi-Speed MX5 Pursuit

San Diego International Airport: 8:00 PM

For young racing ace Keisuke Takahashi, eight hours on a plane was not the most interesting proposition to the start of his new training, but he had to do so. "It's for my aniki," he thought, reminding himself of that cruel March night in which a red FC killed his brother, "I was also given specific instruction on what to do with my inheritance. I still don't get what this will accomplish for me."

After getting his bags at baggage claim, Keisuke walked to the parking lot to get his rental. "I can't believe it," he said while looking at his bare bones Ford Focus with sat-nav, "If all American cars are like this, I don't want any part of them." After getting in, Keisuke opened up his carry on and pulled out a manila envelope. Written in Kanji was his name, and to the side there was a stamp that said "DO NOT OPEN" in English.

This plain envelope was what Keisuke was given at the funeral. He recalled the instructions given to him; "Keisuke-san," the voice said, "I have also arranged for you to go to America. You will arrive in San Diego. I have given you an envelope with further instructions on what you have to do." "What in the hell did he want me to do here?" Keisuke asked himself. He opened the envelope. Inside was a set of keys to some sort of automobile. They were an older set that was worn down by many years of usage, but nonetheless they were a set of keys. Along with the keys was a map. A port was circled. Attached to the map was a letter. It stated that Keisuke was to go to the circled address and look for a large ten-year old crate from Japan. It also stated that he would have to steal it. With all that, there was also a gun that he had, too.

"You've got to be joking, aniki!" Keisuke said to himself, "Steal the fucking car?" "I'm guessing in your Yakuza days" the letter said, "That you could easily take care of stuff like this. I wish you luck Keisuke, and I hope you eventually understand why you are doing this." After finishing reading the letter, he threw the Focus into drive, and headed out of the airport.

"Turn left"

"What the hell does he want me to get in this yard?" Keisuke said, listening to some American band known as Primus, "This is not like him at all. He must've rushed this before the race, knowing he'd possibly die." "This'll be your last run for Project.D" the tape said, "This time, failure is not an option."

"Jerry was a race car driver"

"In 200 yards, turn right"

"Never did win the checkered flag, but he never did come in last"

"You have reached your destination"

"Okay," Keisuke said getting out of the car at the dockyard, "Now I have to break in here. How the hell am I supposed to do that?" He got out, looking around the complex for some sort of gate he could ram through, seeing the 20-foot fence and barb-wire all around the yard. "Screw jumping the fence," Keisuke said, "Now what?" He then saw a gate with no guard, which he could ram through.

"What's up, Jim?" the guard said. "There's this guy sitting out here in a Focus, looking like he's gonna break through the fence." "Call the cops then, dumbass." "Got it, boss."

The Focus rammed through the gate with no problem. "Damn," Keisuke said, "This is one tough mother. I'm surprised it didn't shatter." He then started driving through the complex, looking for the crate. "Where the hell is it?" he said, "By the time I find it, I'll be in jail!" He then spotted it out of the corner of his eye. He slammed on the brakes of the Focus, and grabbed the folder, the gun and the set of keys. He shot the lock out, like in the movies, and went into the crate.

Outside the yard, a police car was pulling up. "Thanks for showing up, officer," the guard said, "He's right in there, possibly armed, Asian, driving a Focus, and definitely determined." "We'll try to stop him before he causes any harm," the officer stated. He then got back into his Impala, and drove inside to apprehend the criminal.

"Come out with your hands up!" a voice on a loudspeaker yelled. "What now?" Keisuke said, in the old seat, "I can't give up now; ah well, so long cruel world!" He turned over the engine and exploded out of the crate, nearly sideswiping the Chevrolet cop car.

"Requesting backup on a police chase in San Diego shipyard. Vehicle is a right-hand drive 1994 blue Mazda Miata with Japanese plates."

"Roger. Help is on the way"

The tires squealed as the Mazda drifted through the shipyard towards the exit. "Shit, aniki!" Keisuke said, "Why the hell did you make me do this?" As he was making a run for the exit, he saw three other cop cars heading towards the exit. "Damn!" Keisuke said, braking and turning hard right towards the freeway. "I gotta outrun these bastards!"

"suspect Heading northbound towards Los Angeles. Requesting backup"

"Roger"

The blue MX5 was speeding through traffic. Keisuke was sweating bullets as the red-and-blue lights started to fade from his rear-view. "Am I losing them?" Keisuke wondered, listening to the high-rev engine while shifting up; the familiar sound of a blow-off valve whooshed out of the engine, "That sounds like my 13B! That's why I'm losing them! He set it up like the FD was when I started!"

"Damn, this guy is fast!"

"We've lost suspect. Setting up a 3-mile perimeter around area. All cops look for blue MX5."

In a back alley, the car sat idling. Keisuke laid his head on the steering wheel. "That's the worst experience I ever had," he thought. Keisuke then began to look in the car for some sort of instruction. "C'mon aniki!" he said, "You had to have left me something to instruct me with!" He looked high and low, eventually opening the glove box. Inside was a map of the United States with a route drawn out in red. The first circled location was Los Angeles. next to the circle was a post-it with an address. Next to the address were the words "Ask for Gene Maglio; tell him you're the Comet's brother. Give it about 3 hours before leaving San Diego, too." "Maybe he didn't hurry this thing," Keisuke thought, "Okay then, let's head to LA."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Drainage Ditch Run

12:00 AM: Downtown Los Angeles

"He's on this street?" Keisuke asked himself, "Man, this place's a dump." The slums were filled with trash, and apparently the address that Keisuke was given was that of a men's only hotel. He parked the car in a back-alley and covered it up with the tarp that was in the trunk. He then proceeded to head up the stairs to the hotel.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke, and the music playing was that of a classic blues band. In one corner of the lobby, there was an old man playing chess with another equally aged gentleman. Keisuke walked up to the counter and asked for Gene Maglio. "He's not in, bud," the manager said, "He's probably out racing." "Where does everyone race around here?" Keisuke asked. "Down in the reservoirs," the manager said, "Especially tonight. There's a big race for some guy's pink slip tonight, too." "Thank you, sir!" Keisuke said, bowing. "You're welcome, I guess," the manager said, taken aback by Keisuke's customs.

Keisuke jumped into his MX5 and headed over to the reservoir in Watts. Looking down in the ravine, he saw three cars fly past him at over 150 mph. "I guess it's thataway," Keisuke thought while driving down the bank, "These guy's have gotta be mad to drive like this."

"Yo, yo yo," yelled the announcer through his PA system, a Puerto Rican man with a Von Dutch cap on, "Y'all ready for the next event?!" The crowd cheered as the five cars lined up for the race. These cars were a bone-stock black Corvette Z06, a heavily modified sublet green Volkswagen GTi, two Civics, both heavily modified and with vinyl graphics and a Lamborghini Gallardo. A starter was standing in front of the cars, ready to signal. "Ready," she said, with her hands up, "Go!" Dropping her hands, everyone sped off. As they did so, a blue Miata came out of nowhere and almost caused one of the Civics to wreck. "Damn!" the announcer said, "Close one there from the obvious newbie!" As it pulled in, everyone was pointing and laughing at the driver's inability to yield.

"So," said the announcer, "Any of you _eses_ up for a half-mile barrel race?" "I'm in!" Keisuke said. "So the newbie thinks he can race, huh," another man with a pro-wrestler build and handlebar mustaches said, "What're you gonna do in that Barbie-mobile, bro?" "You'll just have to find out," Keisuke stated. "Okay then," handlebars said, "I'm in." "Same here," a younger man said. "Whoa, ladies and germs," the announcer said, "_Orale_! Gene-o is coming out to run tonight! What exactly are you driving tonight, homes?" "My GTO, what else?" Gene said, "Gotta let the Nismo Z cool down from her track day."

"It's him," Keisuke said, sensing his opponent's burning aura, "He's amazing. No wonder my brother wanted me to see this guy; he's a god." "What's your name, ese?" the announcer said to Keisuke. "Takahashi Keisuke," Keisuke replied, "This is my first race in America." "Ooh," the announcer said, "This guy's straight outta J-town, people! Keisuke Takahashi!" "Okay," Gene said, "What do you all have on ya?" "I've got 3 grand," Handlebars said. "2 thousand here," Gene replied, "How about you, bra?" "I've got about one million yen on me," Keisuke said, "That's roughly 3 grand." "Sweet," Gene said, collecting the money and putting it with the announcer, "Line 'em up!"

The three lined up at the line. Handlebars drove a gold Oldsmobile 442 with a pro-street conversion and a twin-roots style, bug-catcher intake blown 572 big block. It was raised up in the rear on a set of Weld Alumastars with American Racing Hopsters up front. The engine was so powerful, it shook the ground and burned the concrete from its turn-down shorty headers spewing six-foot flames like an angry dragon. Gene's red GTO was lowered and sitting on a set of Foose rims. The large cowl hood was hiding a massive twin-turbo LS1 small-block. The rear of the GTO was also 'tubbed, but it held a Corvette suspension set up and ZR1-size tires. Keisuke's little Miata was also an insane vehicle. With the exception of the Work Equips, the outside appeared bone-stock. Under the hood, however, didn't breathe the twin-cam four that once was in the bay. Instead, the hurricane of a highly-tuned twin-turbo 13B rotary made high-rev music that contrasted the grunt and angry rumble of the V8s.

As they were waiting, the crowd began to whoop and holler. The starter was coming up to get the race underway. She was looking intensely at the Miata of Keisuke. "All right, y'all," the announcer yelled, "You's ready for some tire-smoking action?!" The starter had her hands above her head, and all three drivers had their clutches in, ready to explode off the line. The hands of the starter dropped, and the three cars exploded off the line. Keisuke and Gene kept their rides grounded, but Handlebars' 442 lifted up and stood up on its two massive Mickey Thompsons. The old-school muscle car eventually touched down, and all three were off to the turn-around point at the other end.

"We have reports of street racing in lower Watts in the drainage ditch."

"Roger"

"I can do this!" Keisuke said, shifting his blue MX5 into third gear at over 100 mph, "If I can beat Gene, I'll gain his respect and he'll help me with this training!" The Mazda was right on the tail of the 442, getting ready to slingshot out to catch Gene's GTO. "Here it goes!" Keisuke slingshotted himself to the front of the 442, but didn't notice how close the barrel was to him until now. "Shit!" he yelled, "I'm going too fast! I guess I'll swing wide here." He swung his car opposite to the barrel to attempt a Scandinavian Flick, but the speed was too great; his MX5 spun out, allowing for the 442 to pass him.

"Suspect in MX5 is present."

"Roger. Moving in."

All of a sudden, a bright light shone down on Keisuke's MX5 from the bridge across the ravine. "Stop!" the officer yelled in his Crown Vic patrol car, "Come out with your hands in the air!" "Well," Keisuke said, "Gotta go!" He slammed on the gas, and sped off down the ravine, knowing that the cops couldn't catch his MX5.

"Suspect is on the run!"

"Same here at the scene! Everyone's scrambling!"

"Oh crap," the announcer said, seeing the black and white Crown Victoria blow through the area, sirens blaring, "Everyone get outta here! We've got 5-0!" "Shit!" Gene thought, swinging his GTO around to escape. "Not again!" The car then went back off in the direction of his opponent. Everyone else in Hondas, Fox-bodied Mustangs, on Hayabusas, and other cars and bikes made a run for it, trying to confound the few officers that were there to arrest the racers. They already caught Handlebars, who was on the ground of the drainage ditch, next to his overturned and smoking 442.

Keisuke at this point had lost the cops and was trying to find a place to ditch his MX5. "I can't go around in this car anymore!" he said, "It's technically stolen! I'm screwed if I don't get rid of it!" He then found a dark back-alley where he parked the car, and gathered up his supplies and left. "Now where the hell am I?" he said, looking at a street sign, which said "Compton Avenue" "Now how do I get back to the hotel, GPS-san?" Keisuke said in a false sense of compassion to the inanimate.

"In 400 yards, turn right."

Oh," he said, looking at the screen, which stated '15 miles to location', "Dammit." As he was heading back, a set of headlamps approached him. The car was about the size of a Supra, but it had the sound of a V8. "Who the hell?" Keisuke said. "Yo," the driver said, rolling down the window, "You okay?" "Yeah, of course I am," Keisuke yelled with sarcasm, "I'm an Asian in Compton, afraid to get shot, what do you think?" "You wanna come back to my place?" the driver said, "I could help you out, man. Where's your car?" "Over there," Keisuke said, pointing to the MX5 in the alley. "Oh, you're that guy," the driver said, "I just came from there. I'll give ya a lift."

Heading into LA, Keisuke watched the sun rise. "Who are you?" Keisuke asked the driver, "And why did you pick me up?" "Name's Jon Benson," he said, "I picked you up because it was inevitable that the cops would catch you. They got a clear view of your face. Apparently, it states that you broke into a San Diego shipyard and stole that MX5 of yours. You're one tough mother, lemme tell ya." "You're not a cop, are you?" Keisuke asked. "Nah," Jon replied nervously, "I'm too much of a wimp to shoot a gun." "Thank god," replied Keisuke, "Where are you from?" "Oh me?" the driver stated, "I'm from Texas. I moved out here with Gene so we could attend college at UC Berkley. We work at a local race shop that his uncle owns. They helped me build this baby up from the ground." "What is it?" Keisuke asked. "You don't know?!" Jon replied, shocked, "It's a 1966 Mustang GT Fastback. She's been in my family for three generations now, and I'm the current caretaker. You probably don't see these too much in Japan, do you?" "Not really," Keisuke said, still embarrassed that he lost to an over-powered FR USDM Cavalier and a car that seemed to only go straight.

They pulled the Mustang into a parking garage next to an apartment complex. "Welcome to my domain," Jon said to Keisuke. When they got out, Keisuke could see how much work went into the Mustang. The entire car was painted a bright torch red, and the New Jersey license plate read "THX 137" The car sat low on a set of Magnum 500s that were massive in the front as well as the rear. Two white stripes caressed the cowl-induction hood and slid down the car, creating a white profile. "Can ya stop gawking at her?" Jon said, "Let's go!" "Oh," Keisuke said, "Okay."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Just One of the Guys

4:35 AM: Berkley Apartment Complex

"Why did you come to America?" Jon asked Keisuke while walking through the garage to the elevator. "My dead brother asked me to come here for some kind of training," Keisuke said solemnly, "It was in his last will & testament." "Oh," Jon said, sorry that he brought the subject up, "Well, we'll try to make your stay here somewhat enjoyable. First off, I got to introduce you to my Berkley pals."

The apartment was a relatively well-kept building. "Well," Jon said, grabbing his keys to unlock the door with the numbers '756' on it, "Welcome to our humble abode." Opening the door, Keisuke and Jon walked into a classic bachelor's apartment. The room was filled with the lively music of Joy Division. The walls were covered with random anime posters with everything from Dragonball Z to the Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya. The centerpiece of the living room was the large leather couch that had cracks and veins on it. In the kitchen there was a man leaning on the open fridge. Keisuke could smell the pungent odor of 5-week old Chinese sweet & sour chicken. The man grabbed a Duff energy drink and proceeded to sit down with a Super Street magazine in his hands. What really drew Keisuke's attention however was the 42-inch flat screen with a Playstation 3 hooked up to it. On the couch was a young man of about the same age as Jon. He was playing "Virtua Fighter 5" and turned to see who it was after pausing the game. "Yo Jon," the man said, "Who's this?" "Oh, him?" Jon addressed, "This is Keisuke Takahashi. He's from Japan, and he was in the street race tonight. Chased off a slew of 5-0." "No way," the man said, "Only one I know who was able to lose cops that fast was Comet." "Wait," Keisuke said, "You mean, White Comet, Ryousuke Takahashi?!"

"Holy shit!" Jon said, "You're his brother! Hey Daley, this guy's Comet's younger brother!" "Damn, bra," Daley said, "You gotta teach me some moves!" "I would love to," Keisuke said, "But I don't have a car anymore." "We'll have to get you one, then," a man said in the kitchen, "I knew you had skills when I saw you race. You just weren't used to the different surface, that's all. The reservoir is notorious for spinning out the best of 'em." "Yeah, I can see," Keisuke replied, "Who are you?" The man turned around, and Keisuke recognized him as Gene Maglio, the GTO driver. His scrawny build and messy hair were unmistakable along with his height. "Name's Gene," he said, "Ryousuke gave me a call before he died; told me you might make a visit." "How did you two know each other?" Keisuke asked.

"He came here about a year and a half ago as an exchange student from Tokyo U," Gene replied, grabbing his acoustic guitar off of its stand, "He was in my differential equations class as a sit-in tutor. I was struggling in the class, so I asked him for some help. We ended up being really good friends, and every Saturday, we'd end up racing each other wherever there was some action. When he died, I was expecting you to show up. He planned that you'd eventually have to come over here; it just wasn't going to be so sudden." He then began to belt out a Rush song, "I suggest that you head into bed; tomorrow we'll get you a new car."

In the bedroom, Keisuke didn't fall asleep quickly, even though he was awake for 28 hours. "I've got to figure out what aniki meant by 'training'," he pondered with his hands behind his head on the fold out mattress, "If I don't, I'll feel like I've been standing still while _he_ keeps getting better." The person Keisuke was talking about was his bitter rival Takumi Fujiwara, who was given a full-ride into the racing world prematurely. To Keisuke, he felt like he was being underestimated next to such a carefree prodigy like Fujiwara. "I've just got to keep soldiering on," Keisuke said, struggling to fall asleep, "It's what aniki would want."

11:00 AM

"Come On Down!" the television yelled, "You're the next contestant on the Price is Right!" "So," Daley said, grabbing a pop tart from the toaster and heading back to the couch, "What kind of ride is our Japanese racer gonna run?" "Well why don't you get off of your lazy ass and come over here and help us decide!" Jon said, "We've narrowed it down to two, so why don't you come over here and give us your input." "We were thinking a Mustang," Jon said, "Most likely something from '66 to '71 with one of those new Alumanator engines and a fully independent suspension and rear-mount transaxle-"

"-or a 5.0-liter model with a centrifugal supercharger and SCCA-legal suspension," Gene said, "It's cheaper and it's a good starter car for Keisuke."

"The classic looks of the older 'stang's better, Gene! People'll know who he is faster!"

"I personally like the 5.0-liter. It's got a ton of parts; didja even think of that?"

"You're such a cheap-ass, Gene. Those engines have to be at least fifteen years old and a pain to work on."

"And how much is one of those all-aluminum V8s plus the shell you'll put it into?"

"It'll be a later add-on, Gene. He's still not used to that."

"Aha! You said it! That's why we should get him the 5.0-liter!"

"Hey, I've got an idea," Daley said with bitter sarcasm at the two, "Why don't you two shut the hell up and let Keisuke decide?" He then sat back down.

"What's going on?" Keisuke asked. "We're just deciding on a car for you, Keisuke-san," Gene said, "Is it okay if I call you that?" "Why wouldn't it be?" Keisuke replied. "Never mind," Gene said. "Okay," Jon said, "We've got two here. The sixties body style-" "Or the more conservative eighties fox-body," chimed in Gene with the disapproval of Jon. "Let me see both of these," Keisuke said, grabbing the magazines, "Don't like either. Y'mind if I show you what I was interested in?" "Sure," Gene said. Keisuke went back into the living room and came out with the February 2008 issue of Car Craft. The page he had leafed over was one for an article feature on a dark blue 1969 Boss 302. "Ha!" Jon said, "I knew he'd want the classic lines!" "Something like this," Keisuke said, and then he pulled out another magazine, "With this engine." It was another Car Craft, but this time, it was an August 2007 Car Craft with a small block 318 Ford that was blown to an insane 700 horsepower. "Take that!" Gene said in Jon's face, "He likes the 5.0-liter!" "The only thing I want different on this engine is a twin turbo kit that makes the engine put out about 500 horses," Keisuke said, "Is that okay?" "You want it detuned that much?" Gene said. "Yeah," Keisuke said, "I'll start out small and work my way up. These engines are common, right?" "Of course," Jon said, "We have an old '93 F150 at the shop that hasn't ran in five years due to a rear-axle problem. The engine's still pretty cherry." "Well I also know a guy selling a slant-six '69 'stang, and we can do that up like a Boss easily," Gene said, "How's that sound?" "Sound's like we've got a design," Keisuke said, "Let's do it."


End file.
